


Like a Missing Piece

by itsactuallycorrine



Category: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: 3+1 Things, Beta Canon is my salad bar and I get to pick what I use, Character Study, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, References to Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsactuallycorrine/pseuds/itsactuallycorrine
Summary: Three times Spock met Jim Kirk by chance before the first five-year mission and one time before the second.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	Like a Missing Piece

**Author's Note:**

> While I have Opinionstm about when and how Jim Kirk should appear in _Strange New Worlds,_ I couldn't get the excitement about potentially seeing a canon first meeting scene out of my head, and this was borne of that.

i.

The crew of the _Enterprise_ had hardly set out on its second five-year mission before orders were received regarding an important state event on the relatively new Federation member planet, Aronnia. Captain Pike as well as Captains Schang of the _USS Tresher_ and Rousseau of the _USS Lexington_ were called on to attend.

After the bittersweet goodbye to the _Discovery_ as well as a grueling debrief at Command, none of the flagship’s crew wanted to be trotted out like show ponies, least of all its science officer, Lieutenant Spock.

Unfortunately Starfleet Command had requested Spock by name, as he was the only Vulcan currently in service across all three ships. At least one Andorian and Tellarite officer had also been requested, in order to further acquaint the Aronnians with the founding races of the Federation.

Though Spock saw the sense in this, that did not mean he had to be satisfied with the state of affairs.

“Cheer up, Spock,” Captain Pike said with a tilt of his lips as he, Spock, and Number One walked towards the transporter room. “Besides, doesn’t diplomacy run in your blood? You’ll be a natural.”

Spock repressed a too-human sigh and settled for lifting one skeptical eyebrow. “Captain, I think you may find my aptitude for my father’s chosen profession as wanting as yours for teaching comparative religion, as your father did.”

Pike bit back a smile as Number One looked on in amusement. “Touché—although I bet I’d surprise you.” 

They took their place on the transporter and within seconds were standing in the grand foyer of the capitol building of Aronnia, being warmly welcomed by the people of that planet.

The Aronnians towered over the present Federation delegates, the shortest of them still a full head taller than Spock; most were whipcord thin with long gangly limbs, no doubt a by-product of the natural lower gravity level of the planet. Each wore a robe, not unlike those worn on Vulcan, that appeared to be made of coarse brown material, while lined with more luxurious and colorfully patterned fabrics. They were quite human-like in appearance, their skin tones ranging towards the warmer brown hues seen in Earth’s cradle of civilization. Their big, booming voices more than matched their stature, as did the joviality of their frequent laughter.

Spock found himself bemused by their effusive warmth, and they seemed no less puzzled by his reticence. Although he could hardly have been the first Vulcan they’d met, they reacted to his composure as though its loss was a prize to be won in some bizarre competition of hospitality. Each successive Aronnian they met in the diplomatic receiving line offered him a more elaborate welcome than the last, each accompanied by an increasingly lavish dish or drink described in glowing terms bordering on purple prose. Each of which Spock politely declined.

“Just take one,” Number One ordered under her breath as they moved towards the next councillor, tone brooking no argument. “They’re not going to let us into the reception until you do.”

Biting back a remark about the illogic in acquiring a refreshment one does not want, Spock dipped his chin in acquiescence. When he accepted the glass of wine offered by the next Aronnian to whom he was introduced, it seemed as though the entire foyer breathed a sigh of relief. 

A guide saw the delegation from the _Enterprise_ through to the grand ballroom and left them to their own devices. 

“I do not want this,” Spock said, peering into the nearly opaque dark green contents of his wine glass with distaste.

Pike muffled a chuckle and tipped his own glass back, a small tumbler of golden alcohol similar in color to Earth’s whiskey. “Hang onto it for a bit, and I’ll take it off your hands once I finish mine. God, I thought we’d never get through that.”

Spock shifted in place. “I did try to warn you, Captain, that I may not be well-suited to diplomacy.”

Pike waved him off. “Nothing you can’t overcome with a little experience,” he said with an encouraging smile, before his attention was caught across the room. “Looks like the _Tresher_ arrived and Schang brought that second officer he keeps talking up, the helmsman. What was his name again?” he asked, gesturing towards Number One. “The kid who ran weapons on the _Farragut?_ Garrovick knew even then to keep an eye on him.”

“Lieutenant James Kirk,” Number One said after a slight pause, the corners of her mouth tipping up. “He wasn’t the only one who warned to keep an eye on Kirk. He’s getting a certain… reputation across the fleet. Very charming, by all reports, and _very_ uninterested in settling down.”

“You don’t say?” Pike rocked back on his heels, brows high, before turning a teasing look on his first officer. “I don’t suppose I need to warn you to keep an eye on your virtue?”

“I don’t suppose you do,” she replied in a dampening tone, blue eyes flashing. 

“That goes for you, too,” Pike said to Spock, who had little more chance for an uncontrollable, “Sir?!” before the captain was called away by a group of Aronnian politicians standing with Captain Rousseau. 

With a wry smile towards Spock, Number One took a bolstering breath and melted into the crowd as well. 

Left to his own devices, Spock regarded Lieutenant Kirk with no little curiosity as the _Tresher’s_ delegation moved further into the room. How debauched must a person be to bring about notoriety that even the circumspect Number One would remark upon it? Yet it seemed to neither impede his rise through the ranks nor the good favor of his superior officers.

The lieutenant was attractive, shorter than anyone else in the small conclave gathered around his captain, but with an air about him that made him seem as imposing as the Aronnians. The golden Command dress shirt complemented his sun-kissed complexion and tawny hair, and fit his stocky frame well. He seemed to radiate bonhomie as he spoke to one of their hosts, but there was a certain gravitas to his deportment as well. All in all, a most interesting human specimen, although not one with whom he would seek to gain acquaintance, Spock concluded, prepared to perform his duty as an officer and nothing more.

And then the grouped neared and Kirk turned towards him.

The cessation of sound, Spock thought—a bit fancifully, he would later realize—was not unlike the vacuum of space: total, encompassing, overwhelming, disorienting. The sudden weightlessness within his abdomen only added to the overall effect, as Spock wondered faintly if someone had accidentally turned off the grav controls in the room. 

Lieutenant Kirk seemed affected as well, eyes going wide, the distinctly human pink flush of dilated capillaries in his cheeks. The practiced charming smile wilted—no, not wilted, Spock corrected, for that spoke of diminishment. Instead the expression on Kirk’s face transformed, softened, into something more genuine, more… warm. Yes, warm described the overall appeal of Kirk quite well.

This reaction Kirk engendered in Spock, whatever it was, was untenable; the loss of control undesirable. Spock broke the connection and stared blindly out into the room. 

His internal time-sense told him the exchange had lasted only 3.7 seconds and yet that seemed impossible. He blinked and the cacophony of the room resumed as Captain Schang said, “—could only be the _Enterprise’s_ Lieutenant Spock.”

“Indeed,” Spock managed, turning his gaze to the captain and raising his hand in the _ta’al._ “Captain, Lieutenant Commander,” he acknowledged with a nod at Schang and his Andorian Operations officer respectively, and turned to Kirk with reluctance, gazing over his right shoulder. “Lieutenant.”

This apparently flustered Kirk, who rushed to hold out a hand in error before he jerked his arm back and sheepishly folded it behind him. “Lieutenant Spock,” he said, voice rich with amusement even as his face continued to redden. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Spock couldn’t contain the rise of his brow as he dropped his salute, his desire to fall into his default parade rest stance stymied by the glass of wine he still held. “Likewise, Mr. Kirk.”

The Andorian snorted and even Captain Schang seemed to bite back a smile beneath his bristly white moustache. Before either officer could comment, a signalling gong rang out over the room and Schang inhaled deeply.

“There’s the signal for the commanding officers to report to the council chambers,” he explained, clasping the commander’s shoulder and looking between him and Kirk. “No telling how long this’ll last, boys. If we’re not out by the time the band wraps up, feel free to beam back up.”

While the Andorian followed his captain to protest this dismissal of safety precautions, Spock avoided looking directly at Kirk, and made a study of how his wine seemed to be forming an unappetizing film on its surface instead.

Kirk’s plaintive sigh broke through Spock’s concentration and he watched as the lieutenant’s face turned wistful when the Starfleet captains left the room with the Aronnian high council members. “I guess I won’t get a chance to meet Captains Pike and Rousseau after all,” he said, glancing toward Spock. “You’ve served with him a while, right? Pike, that is.”

“Correct,” Spock said, taken aback by Kirk’s interest. “I’ve served under Captain Pike on the _Enterprise_ for 4.83 years.”

At the mention of the flagship, Kirk’s face lit up. “Ah, the _Enterprise._ Now that’s a ship. Every time I apply for a transfer, I hope it’s her.” He grinned wryly. “But that’s probably true of half the officers in the fleet.” He glanced at the wine Spock still held. “Are you going to drink that or just play with it?”

Spock stared blankly at the glass, then looked away. “I did not want to accept it,” he confessed, “but it was the only way to end the welcome.”

Kirk chuckled and shuddered as he finished off his serving of a blue liquid that reminded Spock of Vulcan port. After placing the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter, he waved towards Spock’s glass. “Here, I’ll take it if you don’t want it.”

Handing it over without a word, Spock then clasped his hands behind his back and turned towards the room, knowing it was his responsibility to mingle, as both a Starfleet officer and a representative of the Vulcan people. He avoided looking at Number One, knowing the unspoken order to do just that would be all over her face. 

A choked gasp by his side caught his attention and he turned to his companion in time to see Kirk’s features twist in disgust as he lowered the empty wine glass. “God!” he said with a cough. “That was worse than the blue stuff.” He looked up at Spock through watering eyes, and Spock noticed for the first time subtle striations of green coming from the outer edges of the iris, fading gently into the dark amber in a most fascinating way. “You owe me.”

The bold declaration caught Spock so off-guard that he couldn’t quite suppress the curl of his lips. “Never let it be said that a Vulcan doesn’t honor his debts,” he said in the soberest voice he could manage.

Kirk let out a bark of laughter, gazing at him with a new glint in his eye, and wagging a finger at him. “Oh, I’m onto you now, Mr. Spock.” He tilted his chin towards the room. “How about we make the rounds together, and we’ll call it even?”

Spock conceded with a bow of his head, and followed Kirk into the crowd.

ii.

Spock stared down into his teacup and contemplated the events that had led him to this dingy, crowded cafe tucked into a corner of Starbase 13. He wasn’t sure who he’d surprised more by accepting shore leave with alacrity, himself or Captain Pike.

But he’d been offered an opportunity it would be wise to think through carefully and somehow his normal combination of logic and meditation had failed him. Or perhaps it was more accurate that his simple presence on the _Enterprise_ may have unduly affected his logic.

However it had come about, he was due to rejoin the ship for duty soon and still hadn’t come to a satisfactory conclusion.

Should he leave the _Enterprise_ and accept the offered promotion to join the _Intrepid_ as its first officer? Or was Starfleet better served with Spock on the _Enterprise?_

Both choices had their logical merits, but both also evoked strong, though disparate, emotional reactions. 

To leave the _Enterprise,_ Captain Pike, and the crew was almost too painful to contemplate. But maybe Spock should consider that enough justification; after all, what greater way to prove his mastery of his emotions than by welcoming and overcoming that pain? 

It would be remiss to overlook the social factor as well. Even now, after 5.27 years of service, Spock had not managed to ingratiate himself among his peers to a level of comfort. For all that he’d carved out a place for himself, he still stood alone among them—too Vulcan to truly belong. His rapport with the senior staff, especially Captain Pike and Number One, seemed strong, but even with them, he felt separate, alone. 

The alternative, though… He was loath to admit it, but the idea of serving with an all-Vulcan crew on the _Intrepid_ induced a deep-seated dread. If he was too Vulcan for the _Enterprise,_ then it would also be true that he was too Human for the _Intrepid._ As he’d been for the children at the learning center, the Vulcan Expeditionary Group, and his father. After seeing the _Discovery’s_ capabilities, part of Spock longed to join a science vessel, but the cost, as the Earth saying went, might well be too high.

The tea in his cup had grown cold due to his inattention, but Spock couldn’t find it within himself to freshen it up. He would leave soon anyway. 

“Are you going to drink that or just stare at it?” a vaguely familiar voice asked over his shoulder. 

Spock hardly had time to look up before James Kirk sidled to the table’s edge with the same wide, warm smile that Spock remembered from Aronnia eight months and eleven days ago.

“Lieutenant Kirk,” Spock acknowledged before something caught his eye on Kirk’s sleeve. “Or rather, Lieutenant Commander. My congratulations on your promotion.” 

The corners of Kirk’s eyes crinkled. “Thank you, Mr. Spock. Do you mind if I... ” He waved at the empty chair across the table, quickly occupying it as soon as Spock lifted his chin in acquiescence, stowing a bag beneath. “I saw the _Enterprise_ was docked, but I wasn’t sure if I’d run into you.”

“I’m due to report back from shore leave in approximately 2.58 hours.”

“Must be fate then.” Kirk tilted his head, sending his forelock swooping across his furrowed brow. “Didn’t you tell a group of Aronnians that Vulcans don’t require leisure time? I’m surprised to find you here at all.” 

Spock hesitated, then waved a hand at the teapot. “Would you like me to obtain another cup? It is a passable approximation of a Vulcan spice tea.” At Kirk’s acceptance, Spock gestured to the cafe staff, waiting until the request had been fulfilled and Kirk’s tea poured before he answered the original question. “It is true that Vulcans typically do not require leisure time. We find far greater benefits in the art of meditation. And you?” he asked, belaying any further questions. “Are you also on shore leave?”

“No,” Kirk said slowly, as if he were considering what Spock had—and hadn’t—said carefully. “I’m on my way to a new assignment. The _USS Alexander_ is making a staff rotation stop in about an hour and I’ll be joining her as exec.”

It occurred to Spock that this meeting may be fortuitous after all. “Congratulations are once again in order,” he said, to which Kirk raised his cup in a cheers before cautiously tasting the contents. Spock watched him nod in approval while he considered how to approach the topic of conversation he most wanted to pursue. “You have served on a number of vessels since leaving the Academy, have you not?”

Kirk smiled, a little sheepishly. “Got me. I find it hard to pass up any opportunity for advancement.”

“It is not due to displeasure in your assignments or with the command teams then?”

“Not often,” he said after a pause, contemplating the question over his tea. “In fact, only once has that been the case. But I won’t tell tales out of school.” He laughed when Spock responded with a raised brow. “By and large, I’ve learned a lot from each ship, each posting, and each command team. But I’ve always lived by the credo, ‘A man’s worth is no greater than the worth of his ambitions,’ in the purest sense of its intention. If I can be doing more, serving better, if I have the chance to affect real change at a higher level… it’s a siren’s song I simply can’t refuse.”

Spock gazed at Kirk across the tiny cafe table and contemplated the newly illuminated facets of his companion’s character. Who was this man, who’d earned a reputation for his casual sexual relationships and yet would casually quote Marcus Aurelius over tea? Spock’s curiosity, always difficult to suppress, longed to know more. With great control, he overruled it; the window of opportunity was closing and he still had questions.

With a steadying breath, Spock wrapped his hand around the long-cold tea cup before him. “Do you find it… difficult to leave? Are there personal factors, relationships taken into consideration?”

Again, Kirk seemed to hear more than the simple words spoken, and Spock was grateful for his thoughtfulness. 

“After what I went through on the _Farragut,_ it’s far better to make the choice to say goodbye myself,” he answered, mouth drawn into a tight, grim line as his eyes darkened. “Sure, there are friends I miss, but it’s the nature of the service. The nice thing about being on the Command track is, eventually, I’ll be the one able to give those friends a hand-up, bring them onto my own team, the best team I can build.” 

He smiled then, the dazzling one he’d used on the Aronnians, and Spock saw it for the disguise it was—Kirk wasn’t trying hard enough to hide the somber air lingering in his eyes. It was interesting that he’d even try, especially after bringing up the _Farragut._ Spock was never briefed on all the details, but the loss of Captain Garrovick and two hundred of his crew had made waves throughout the ranks. But, it occurred to Spock, Kirk was likely more aware than anyone how far the news had spread, and wanted to avoid any follow-up questions.

Spock had no desire to reopen any old emotional wounds in his companion and asked instead, “How do you know when it’s time to accept a new opportunity? I can imagine that you’re offered many.”

“I’m afraid, Mr. Spock, you will not like my answer.”

Spock took in the teasing smile and gleaming eyes and felt something alight within him. “I’m surprised, Mr. Kirk, that you seem so certain of that based on only a few hours’ acquaintance.”

Kirk laughed. “Fair point. I go by my gut,” he said, laughing even harder as Spock’s brows flew up towards his hairline. “I told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“On the contrary,” Spock replied, “I am most intrigued by this heretofore-unknown prognostic ability of the human digestive system. Please elaborate.”

Kirk’s continued grin showed he wasn’t fooled at all. “Instinct, Mr. Spock. Experience plus insight plus blind stupid luck.”

“A most irrational equation, sir.” 

Kirk made a moue of distaste. “None of that now. I’m about to get ‘sirred’ to death as soon as I board the _Alexander._ Which,” he said with a look at the cafe’s chronometer, “I should probably go gird myself for.” He finished the tea in his cup before looking steadily across the table. “I feel like you had a puzzle to solve and I may have just jumbled up the pieces more.”

It was true that Spock didn’t necessarily feel any closer to an answer, but it was no problem of James Kirk’s. “You have given me a very interesting perspective, if nothing else.”

With a smile, Kirk extracted his bag from under his seat and moved to stand. Before he rose, though, he leaned forward. “For what it’s worth—if I understand what you’re considering—you’re on the _Enterprise,_ and that’s an experience you shouldn’t relinquish lightly. There are dozens of people who’d kill for that spot, myself included. You may not be able to get it back if you find you’ve made a mistake. But ultimately, you should ask yourself,” he said, meeting Spock’s gaze intently, “what do you _want?”_

A frisson of inexplicable tension sizzled across the table and Spock was reminded of the first moment he’d clapped eyes on this man, as if some warm and golden and ineffable thread seemed to connect them. He could almost feel the pull of it now. Hair rose on the nape of his neck and some deep, primal place within him awoke—until Kirk broke the connection by glancing away. 

Standing, he shouldered his bag and smiled down at Spock, offering him a perfectly executed _ta’al,_ which Spock reciprocated. “Until we meet again, Lieutenant.”

“Live long and prosper, Lieutenant Commander.”

iii.

Spock found it amazing that, despite centuries of public transportation development and improvement, somehow the occupants of any given compartment of any given mode still resorted to some of their worst behavior while in those environs. The airtram he found himself on that morning in San Francisco was no exception.

One human woman spoke quite audibly about a personal biological matter into her comm while an Edosian male took advantage of the close quarters to proposition an androgynous person of a species Spock couldn’t readily identify. A small Caitian child threw a tantrum while his mother pleaded with his older sister to stop growling at the old Deltan man in the seat adjacent to them. A group of boisterous Starfleet cadets laughed and joked loudly at the front of the aircar; behind them, a young Ariolo couldn’t quite prevent her hooves from stamping, a clear sign of nerves. 

Looking around the crowded car, Spock reflected that his heritage afforded him few benefits, but the surrounding personal space he’d been given—was always given on public transport—was one of the most appreciated ones. 

Despite the commotion around him, he had come to appreciate the routine of his daily community to Starfleet Headquarters in the time he’d been on Earth. He was currently assigned to a prestigious botany project under a joint Federation-civilian task force, and had found both the project and life on Earth a refreshing challenge. 

As he did every morning, Spock allowed his eyes to close as he sought the mental clarity and emotional control required to operate with the group of botanists. With one botanist, in particular, he admitted to himself.

Was Leila Kalomi what Michael envisioned with her last piece of sororal advice? Leila with her overtures and blatant emotionalism—how could she guide Spock, balance him in the way he needed? 

Unfortunately, curiosity—always his Achilles’ heel—tempted him nonetheless. His entire life, he’d lived as a Vulcan, along his father’s path, and without satisfying the expectations of either his father’s people or himself. What would it be like to live as a human, even only briefly? Would it be easier to fulfill human expectations? Was he even able to do so? 

Somehow he doubted it.

However, the temptation lingered. Even if he failed, he could always return to the _Enterprise,_ with this experience behind him. If he found the human lifestyle—and Leila—appealed, he was certain he would face no obstacles with T’Pring in nullifying their bond. It was humbling to admit that she may even be relieved at such a request. 

The airtram made a quick stop, its last before reaching Starfleet Command, and as the occupants of the car shifted, Spock opened his eyes in time to identify one of the new members boarding a split-second before he himself was noticed.

“Mr. Spock!” James Kirk, his dress uniform gleaming in the early morning’s sun, grinned at him and sidled over. 

Only Spock’s acute Vulcan hearing afforded him the amusing recognition of several stifled gasps around the compartment. 

Kirk showed no cognizance of this unspoken reproachment and moved closer, clasping the bar before him as the tram moved forward once again. “Long time no see! I’m surprised to find you planet-side, and on this planet no less. I see this time my congratulations are in order,” he said, gesturing to Spock’s newly acquired lieutenant commander’s stripes. 

Spock raised a brow in time with one corner of his mouth. “I believe, Commander,” he replied, acknowledging Kirk’s most recent promotion, “any mutual congratulations are unnecessary, appreciated as they may be.”

Kirk’s eyes crinkled as his smile widened. “No mutual admiration society then? I guess I can live with that.” As the tram slowed in anticipation of its arrival at Starfleet Headquarters, he braced himself. “I’m going to guess you’re not just here for shore leave, though.”

“That is accurate,” Spock replied, waiting for Kirk to disembark before him, and following him off the station’s platform towards the Starfleet grounds. “I applied 7.57 months ago to join a scientific task force and received acceptance. I have been stationed in San Francisco for the past two weeks and three days.”

Nodding, Kirk fell into step beside him; the headquarter grounds were rarely bustling but that morning found it even more empty than normal, allowing them to easily walk abreast without accommodating any passers-by.

“I have a meeting with the Admiralty—I’m obnoxiously early,” Kirk admitted with a wry grin as he came to a stop at a cross-section. “Antsy to get back in the sky. Do you have time for a cup of coffee? Or tea? I believe I owe you a pot.”

The offer, although not unexpected, surprised Spock nonetheless—or rather, his reaction to the offer surprised him. How strongly he wanted to accept! The strength of that desire nearly overrode his sense of duty to the project, to the respected scientists who entrusted him to participate fully in their project, and to Captain Pike, who’d afforded him this opportunity. 

He let the regret come, identified it, and gently dismissed it. “I’m sorry, Commander, but I’m due at the botany lab in 12.2 minutes.”

Kirk’s smile melted away. “Ah, well. Rain check then.” He looked away for a second before turning back, face tilted up in supplication. “Do you want some company on your walk at least? I really do have time to kill.”

Spock hardly hesitated. “That would be acceptable.” They fell into step and Spock clasped his hands behind his back, watching Kirk from the corner of his eye. “You are between assignments, then?”

“I am, for almost a month now. I’m not sure they know where to stick me,” Kirk said with a roll of his eyes. “Either that or there’s dissent among the Admiralty about my future. I know some of them think I’m coming up the ranks too fast, but…” He made a sweeping gesture that was half-shrug, half-frustrated dismissal. “It’s their circumstances that allowed it. I shouldn’t be penalized for it.” He glanced at Spock, brows drawn low and visibly troubled. “I didn’t mean to drop all this on you.”

“I believe the axiom ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’ would be appropriate in this situation.” When Kirk graced that with a facsimile of his usual smile, Spock considered him and his situation. “It occurs to me that your meeting with the Admiralty today would be an ideal opportunity to voice your position on the matter, if they are not prepared to name your next assignment.”

Kirk sighed. “That’s the plan. But bucking the Admiralty is always a risk, especially when some of them already aren’t sure you’re command material.”

“Your service record demonstrates that you are more than capable of command. To suggest otherwise is highly illogical,” Spock argued, faltering when Kirk snorted and glanced at him from beneath his eyelashes.

“You’ve been checking up on my service record?” 

Caught, Spock took a moment to compose himself, tightening the clasp of his hands behind him, and steadfastly looking forward. “I routinely review service records for any Starfleet member who has taken control of a vessel—or is likely to do so in the near future. Captain Pike’s service is also exemplary and I am fairly confident he, too, will be coerced into promotion soon. It is in my best interest to know who may replace him.”

Kirk made a wordless noise of agreement and walked silently for a few feet. “That’s funny. I keep track of yours just because I’m nosy,” he said, biting back a smile when Spock turned to him. He looked at the sky and sighed again. “Whatever comes of the meeting today, I hope I at least find out when I can get back on a ship. For all the unusual and unexpected situations that arise when we’re out there, it still makes a lot more sense than life planetside, doesn’t it?” 

“It does,” Spock agreed, thinking of the quandary that awaited him ahead in the labs. 

“The regulations, the organization, the clear expectations and mission parameters… What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of structure for my life outside of Starfleet.” Kirk ducked his head. “Life outside of the service is complicated, to say the least. For a human, at least,” he said with a chuckle and glance at Spock. “I’m sure your logical Vulcan nature has no problem supplying whatever structure is needed.”

Spock nodded. “To an extent, although I admit as a Vulcan among humans, I often find the logic with which I’ve built that structure to be at cross-purposes with the emotional states of those around me.”

“Complicated from any perspective, then,” Kirk said with a hum of realization, coming to a halt before the life sciences building. “I’ll leave you here, Mr. Spock, but if you’re free later, I’d like to cash that rain check. That is, if the Admiralty doesn’t ship me off right away.”

Warm pleasure unfurled in the back of Spock’s mind. He struggled to maintain his composure. “I am available in those circumstances. My work in the laboratory will be concluded at 17:00 hours.”

As Kirk promised to inform him of any impediments and took his leave, Spock cataloged his mental state: the buzz of anticipation; the regret at parting from Kirk so soon; the inexplicable, heady _other_ that arose from these short, infrequent meetings. It felt like nothing so much as the relief of something drawn tight finally being relaxed. 

Throughout the remainder of the day, Spock visited these feelings over and over, visualizing little tidepools of emotion where he could touch the surface and watch the ripples gently roll away. He wanted to submerge in them, drink from them, know the heady release of fully embracing any and all of these states. 

Unfortunately, his work in the labs took priority, and not even the allure of investigating this new phenomenon could deflect Spock from his duty.

Had he really almost set aside his Vulcan training for simple curiosity with Leila when _this_ was available to him, this depth and breadth of feeling? It seemed like a betrayal now, and Spock resolved himself to find some way to make his intentions—or lack thereof—clear to Leila. 

Though, he admitted, his mindset regarding Leila had likely made him more receptive to this… situation with Kirk. His walls had softened over the past two weeks and three days, and his controls as well. Kirk had been right to say life outside of the service was complicated, but it was also freeing, and exciting…

And dangerous, Spock decided grimly as he read the comm message from Kirk at the end of the day. Command had assigned him to the _USS Oxford,_ which he was to journey to join tomorrow. He sent his regrets as he had some unfinished business to tie up that night and would have to extend the rain check until the next time they met. 

Spock lingered over the end of the missive, signed off with a simple, _“Your friend, Jim Kirk,”_ and wondered if all human friendships felt this profound, and why he found the likelihood they did so disappointing.

\+ i.

With the V’Ger crisis past and the _Enterprise_ back in the orbital dockyards for minor repairs and some of Commander Scott’s suggested changes, Starfleet Command was more than anxious to get the crew through the delayed debriefing.

Spock walked out of his more certain of his future in Starfleet than he’d been 2.81 years. His personal future, however, remained ambiguous. 

It was made clear that Admiral Kirk would be offered another five-year mission, and that he had requested Spock as his First Officer and Chief Science Officer. The Admiralty had also made it clear that, if Spock so desired, he would be given his own command instead of continuing to serve on the _Enterprise._

It was no surprise—it was a similar offer as the one they’d made after the end of Kirk’s first five-year mission. Only then the choice wasn’t between his captain or his own ship; it was between assuming command of the _Enterprise_ or being transferred to a different starship as First Officer. Kirk was being promoted to the rank of rear admiral and assuming the position of Chief of Starfleet Operations.

To lose Jim was enough; to choose between the loss of the _Enterprise,_ his home for the majority of his adult life, or hurting Jim—and Jim would have been hurt at Spock taking up the role of captain, no matter how he insisted otherwise—was more than Spock could bear. 

Resigning his commission had been an easy decision, despite the strife he’d endured by pursuing that path two decades earlier. More difficult was the decision to seek the discipline of _kolinahr._

It hadn’t been his original intention when he’d traveled to Vulcan; he’d scheduled two weeks to sit in his father’s home, meditate on his future, and reacclimate himself to a life outside of Starfleet. 

By the end of those two weeks, Spock had known only one thing: he wanted to be where Jim was. He ached to explore all the possibilities they never had while working together, and revel in what he’d finally recognized as a _t’hy’la_ bond.

It never came to pass. Kirk fell in love with Lori Ciani and accepted the promotion, and Spock, in his pain, saw no other alternative. 

In retrospect, after V’Ger, it seemed foolishly melodramatic, and he could only be grateful that his efforts to expunge his human side had failed.

As Spock walked down the sidewalk of the Starfleet Headquarters grounds, he felt an extra thread of awareness, warm and pulsing, snare him and pull at his attention. It was no surprise to turn his head and find Jim Kirk standing there.

Kirk half-smiled and it was all the invitation Spock needed. It wasn’t quite like seeing him for the first time—neither the occasion 14.78 years ago on Aronnia nor eight days ago on the bridge of the _Enterprise._ But Spock still felt the change in respiration, the decreased awareness of ambient noise, and above all the glowing, golden tendril of connection. 

Though spontaneous, their _t’hy’la_ bond was something they’d earned with loyalty and friendship and affection; however, Spock found it interesting to recognize in retrospect that even at that very first meeting, the potential was present. 

“Well, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said lightly as Spock closed the distance between them, “have you been given your orders?”

Spock arched a brow. “Negative, Admiral. I have been given a choice: serve on the _Enterprise_ or take command of my own vessel as captain.” 

Kirk frowned. “I didn’t—that is, are you… interested in your own command?”

“I never have been, although,” Spock offered with a twist of his lips, “I have been asked to ‘sleep on it’ and give an answer in forty-eight hours.”

“Ah, I see. So I have some time to work on you to make you want to stick around.” With a grin, Kirk quirked a brow at him.

“Jim,” he said gently, “if you want me at your side, I will be there.”

Somehow it was the wrong thing to say.

Instead of smiling, Kirk clenched his jaw and looked away, brows drawn low. “Then where’ve you been the last three years?” he demanded, and winced in regret immediately after. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Spock hesitated and didn’t offer his normal dismissal of an apology. Instead, he suggested, “Before I make any decision, perhaps it would be wise if we spoke privately.”

Spock soon found himself ensconced in Kirk’s apartment. It seemed to be in a transitory state—some display surfaces hung but with nothing to display, very few personal touches denoting the dynamic man who resided within its walls. 

“Drink?” Kirk offered, going to the replicator without waiting for an answer. “I still have some Vulcan teas programmed, I think.”

Spock accepted a light herbal blend and settled onto one of the chairs before the expansive view of the Bay as he waited for Kirk to take a seat across from him with his own mug. 

“I’m sure you have questions,” Spock said when it became clear Kirk would not initiate the conversation. 

“To be honest, Spock, I’m not sure where to start,” Jim said at length. “One minute you were being offered the _Enterprise_ and then the next thing I knew, you’d resigned your commission and were locked up so tight at Gol, not even your mother could get word to you.”

One small fact niggled at Spock. “Two weeks elapsed between the offer from Command and my entry at Gol.” 

It wasn’t intended as a judgment, but Kirk reacted as if it were regardless, setting his mug down with a clumsy clunk and rising to his feet to pace. “So what? It’s my own fault for being caught off-guard, is that it? Five years, Spock! Five years and then you leave without so much as a good-bye? And to what? What exactly does it mean to ‘exorcise’ your humanity?”

“The _kolinahr_ discipline seeks to purge all emotions, leaving only pure logic behind,” Spock said carefully. 

Kirk dropped back into his seat and stared. “And that’s why you thought V’Ger had answers for you.”

“Yes.”

“Spock.” Kirk rubbed his eyes with one hand. “If you hadn’t failed… would I have ever seen you again?”

“No.”

Looking tired and old beyond his years, Kirk leaned back and met Spock’s gaze evenly. “Was the situation really so… unbearable?” he asked, voice plaintive and clearly seeking consolation. 

Spock hesitated. “Yes.”

The low animal sound that escaped Kirk was one of mourning, of pain. Spock was helpless against it.

“Jim, you must understand,” he said. “There was no precedent of a Vulcan-Human hybrid before my birth. For most of my life, no one understood the delicate balance of logic and emotion necessary to my well-being. I was alone. I have always been alone.”

“Not with me, you weren’t,” Kirk replied fiercely. “Not on the _Enterprise.”_

Spock met his gaze and let the silence speak for him.

But Kirk wasn’t so easily stymied. “No, I can’t believe it. Maybe with everyone else, but never with me. We’re connected; I felt it from the moment I first saw you.”

It was Spock’s turn to look away. “We are,” he admitted. “More than you realize.”

“What does that mean?”

Tightening his grip on his rapidly cooling mug, Spock said, “Before the Time of Awakening, the Vulcan people had a revered touching of the minds, one that developed naturally and surpassed all others: the _t’hy’la_ bond.” He took a drink of tea to steady himself. “Jim, you and I share this connection.”

Kirk relaxed back into his chair, deliberately at ease in a manner that telegraphed the opposite. “Elaborate, Mr. Spock.”

Setting his mug aside, Spock steepled his fingers before him and considered how to best explain. “The _t’hy’la_ bond forms between two individuals who have become close in a multitude of ways. Vulcan legend tells of the bond being borne out of the brothers-in-arms relationships of pre-Surakian warriors. As my people turned away from violence and towards logic, the _t’hy’la_ bond grew increasingly rare, and the definition shifted. On modern Vulcan, the definition has been conflated with the roles of friend, brother, and/or… lover.”

A suffocating silence suffused the air between them. 

Without making a sound, Kirk shot to his feet and began pacing again, fist pressed to his lips. 

Spock pressed his steepled finger tips together more firmly and exerted his attention towards controlling his respiration. It was out there now, and would color all their exchanges moving forward. _Kaiidth._ They had settled nothing, and this revelation could further widen the ravine between them. _Kaiidth._ Spock could lose Kirk in a very real, irrevocable way, and with him, every last promise of a fulfilling life.

_Kaiidth._

It was a prayer, a plea, for circumstances to work in his favor for once.

Finally, Kirk halted before the great window and stared out into the afternoon sky, pressing one arm to the glass. “This bond existed before you went to Gol.”

“Affirmative.”

“And you were aware of it?” he asked without inflection.

Spock saw the trap forming and knew of its inevitability. He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Kirk turned and sprang it on him then. “So not only would you have stripped yourself of your humanity, your emotions, but you would have sacrificed our connection? This rare and revered bond you speak so highly of? You would have thrown it away—did, for all intents and purposes. And for what?” He stood beside Spock and stared down at him, a fire in his eyes. “What part was more repugnant to you: that it existed at all or that it was with an illogical human?”

“Jim,” Spock pleaded, rising to his feet, “you don’t understand.”

“You’re damn right, I don’t. You’re not the only one who hurt, Spock, the only one who had their life upended, their ship taken away, their friends scattered to the wind.” Kirk shook his head. “But at least I didn’t run.”

“Didn’t you?” The question slipped through Spock’s control and landed like a grenade.

Kirk’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

Spock turned away, suddenly weary. “Jim, I do not want to argue.”

“No, say what you need to say, and let’s end it once and for all.”

Heart a leaden stone in his side, Spock stared at the empty shelves in the apartment and let the words wash over him, eroding his control, his better judgment. If it was to end, at least let it end in honesty. “For five years, I watched as you sacrificed everything for the _Enterprise._ Relationships, power, a peaceful existence away from Starfleet. And yet, you refused to fight for your starship when the Admiralty pressed you into promotion and sat you at a desk. You may have stayed in a general sense, but in another, you ran from the pain as much as I.”

Squaring his shoulders, Kirk crossed his arms. “It’s easy for you to say that now, with the benefit of hindsight, but where were you then? Where were you when I needed you?” He scoffed. “That’s right, you were gone! You’d resigned your commission and disappeared.”

“I never intended to stay away,” Spock admitted. 

It drew Kirk up short. “What?”

“When I left, I planned to stay on Vulcan for two weeks at most. It’s true that I had left Starfleet, but—” Spock took a deep breath. “It was never my intention to leave you, Jim.”

Kirk dropped his defensive stance and took a halting step forward. “Spock…” He shook his head, eyes wide and watchful. “Then what happened? How’d you go from that to… Gol? It makes no sense. I’m willing to admit that without you around—without your logic in my ear, in my head—I made an unwise choice. I let myself be taken in by Nogura, and by Lori—” He faltered, gaze sharp as he clearly saw something Spock hadn’t intended to display. “It was about Lori?”

Closing his eyes as shame curdled, Spock swallowed hard. “Not about her specifically, but about what she represented.” Turning back to Kirk, he let his pain and misery shine through his crumbling emotional controls. “I have long held you in… high regard, and had dared to hope that I may stay by your side in a capacity that fulfilled the _t’hy’la_ bond in every sense.” 

Kirk spun on his heels, hands clasped tightly behind his back. 

Mirroring the stance, Spock continued, “When Dr. McCoy shared with me the news of your promotion and relationship with the admiral, that hope diminished. In the culmination of a lifetime of isolation, the loss of my home, my career, and that hope, I decided the _kolinahr_ was the only option left to me.”

After a long minute of silence, Kirk sighed. “Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you?” he asked, still turned away, and didn’t wait for an answer. “I thought ‘that’s the most gorgeous man I ever saw; it’s a pity he’s Vulcan.’ I never thought, you see, that you’d want anything to do with me. No other Vulcan ever had, not that I’d known many. 

“But that night, in that ballroom on Aronnia, with the locals all but prodding and poking you, you showed me the true nature of your character. That gentle patience, the curiosity, that sly humor you pretend not to have.” He huffed out a laugh. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind for weeks.”

Spock gently cleared his suddenly tight throat. “I found myself similarly affected.”

“Yeah?” Kirk pivoted until he was in profile, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Was it the bond even then?”

“No, not quite. I believe it was the compatibility of our minds, which ultimately enabled the forming of the _t’hy’la_ bond,” Spock explained. “It was merely a possibility at that point.”

With a hum, Kirk nodded. “When I got the _Enterprise,_ I knew I had to be careful—I knew I would have to sacrifice for her. It didn’t seem like much to ask: what was one small, unrequited crush in the face of my own starship and the fleet’s best First Officer? But it didn’t stay a crush. And,” he said with a self-deprecating dip of his lips, “I never quite dismissed the idea that you’d want nothing to do with me.”

“Jim,” Spock breathed.

“How could you?” he continued as though he hadn’t heard. _“Why_ would you? You’d been tempted by some of the most beautiful, interesting minds in the galaxy and rebuffed them without a second glance. What could I possibly offer you that would be of more interest?”

“You never needed anything else but yourself.”

Kirk appeared struck by the thought, swallowing hard, eyes going soft. “I love you, Spock.”

The words were a balm and Spock closed his eyes as they soothed his pain. To be given this gift by such a man… had he ever been so humbled? He found his mind echoing Kirk’s very words: _What could I possibly offer…?_ Whatever it was, it was Kirk’s. All that he was and would ever be. Was that the romantic love of which the poets wrote? 

Spock had no experience with such things; they were not spoken of among Vulcans, not for centuries. Spock couldn’t live as those Vulcans of old had, without control, feeling freely at the cost of his sanity. Would the controlled affection he offered be enough? Could it? 

The fear that it could not drove him to look away. “Jim, I am not and cannot be wholly human; I am Vulcan by biology… and by choice.” 

“I know that,” Kirk interjected, but Spock continued undeterred. 

“Although I have accepted and even embraced the necessity of my emotions, I cannot live without logic, without balance. I cannot feel without reservation; I can’t…” He paused and gathered his composure. “I cannot love in the same manner as a human does.” 

“I know,” Kirk said, and Spock could hear the defeat in the words, heavy and final. 

He turned to his friend, his _t’hy’la._ “I do love you, though, in as deep and as profound a manner as I am able. I fear—have always feared—it to be inadequate. To sacrifice the relationship we have found for the chance it is not… It would be a most illogical gamble.” 

Kirk gazed at him then, eyes dewy, as a new hope dawned across his face. “Spock.” He shook his head. “Haven’t we proved time and again that, together, we could overcome the odds?” Stepping forward, he clasped Spock’s shoulders and turned up his face in supplication. “If the choice is between losing you completely or settling for friendship, I’ll take whatever you’re comfortable with. But I think it would be a shame if we didn’t at least try, don’t you?”

“Jim.” Spock found it hard to catch his breath and gently caressed Kirk’s psi points. “I would show you what I cannot speak, if you permit it.” When Kirk agreed with alacrity, Spock commenced the meld and hardly had to speak the words before he found himself among the familiar and cherished chaos of his _t’hy’la’s_ mind. Slowly, he opened the door to his own psyche and filled the bond with the affection and gratitude and awe he’d harbored for so long.

Kirk gasped—although whether it was within his mind or body, Spock couldn’t tell—and pushed his own wave of emotion across, warm and pulsing and golden, cresting over Spock’s mind and body, until he couldn’t tell where he left off and Kirk began. They were one, as they were always meant to be.

Spock slowly ended the meld, coming back to an awareness of his lips against Kirk’s, their breath as entwined as their minds. Even as the mental touch faded, they replicated the golden thread of the bond with the bridging of tongue-to-tongue. 

_Parted from me and never parted,_ the ancient words rang between them, though neither knew whose mind supplied them. _Never and always touching and touched._

Kirk gentled the kiss, drawing it to a close with a small, delighted laugh. “Well, Mr. Spock, if that’s a taste of controlled emotion, I am beginning to understand why your people sought refuge in logic.” He pulled back and stared at Spock with eyes blown wide. “How could you ever think that was inadequate? It was— _you_ are—beautiful, and I am… overcome.”

“Jim, _ashayam,”_ Spock said, nuzzling his beloved’s cheek, “as am I. To hear of your love is one thing, but to experience it was… fascinating.” He bit back a smile as Kirk groaned.

“Oh, boy, here we go.” Kirk stood back and propped his hands on his lips. “I’m setting myself up for a lifetime of this, aren’t I?”

Spock’s breath caught. “A lifetime,” he managed to agree. “I’m afraid so.”

Facing blooming into a pleased smile, Kirk nodded. “Good. Now mister,” he said, “we’ve gotten the personal out of the way; it’s time to talk business. We’ve got a new mission to plan.”

Lifting a brow, Spock resumed his seat. “Yes, Admiral.”

Kirk rubbed his hands together. “All right. But first—more tea, Mr. Spock?”

Glancing at the drink long grown cold, Spock debated for a moment. “That would be appreciated,” he said and thrilled at Kirk’s fingers brushing his as he passed the mug. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to come find me on [tumblr](http://itsactuallycorrine.tumblr.com) if you are so inclined.


End file.
